


Do Not Steal Steve's Fricken Pencils (Or Poke Tony's Bottom With Your Ruler)

by greymantledlady



Series: Do Not Steal Steve's Fricken Pencils (Or Poke Tony's Bottom With Your Ruler) [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, Angst, Birthday, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, I've always wanted to use that tag, Jealous Baby Steve, Kid Fic, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, School, Steve Rogers Is Not A Soft Child, Tiny Aggressive Steve, Tiny Steve, Tony Is A Soft Child, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved, like seriously so tiny and so aggressive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymantledlady/pseuds/greymantledlady
Summary: Tony glances shyly at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve’s looking back at him, steady and curious. His eyes are blue, like the sky, and he doesn’t look shy at all.‘I’m Steve,’ he says. ‘You should sit here.’ Then he goes back to carefully organising his pencils. He has lots of colours.Or: The Avengers start school together and it goes about as smoothly as you'd expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a [Tumblr ficlet](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/158225067142/okay-but-what-about-tiny-tony-and-steve-growing-up) I wrote which just demanded to be expanded.

They start school on the same day.

Tony’s mother drops him off at the gate with a light kiss on the cheek. Tony wishes very, very hard that she would come in with him – he can see other kids holding their parents’ hands as they walk inside – but he knows that he has to be braver than that. He’s always done things on his own.

‘Bye Mom,’ he says quickly, but she’s already pulling the car away, glossy pale pink fingernails curled delicately around the wheel. It’s okay. Tony knows she’s busy.

He swallows hard and turns back to the school. It’s very big, but he’s used to big buildings, come on, he’s not  _scared_. Room 17, that’s what the papers said. Room 17, he has to find Room 17, and his teacher’s name is Ms Potts. He sort of likes that. It’s like the teapot in Beauty and the Beast, and Tony imagines Ms Potts as being round and comfortable and kind.

He hitches his backpack resolutely on his shoulders, and starts trudging towards the big doors.

There are  _heaps_ of children, and they’re all bigger than Tony. He nearly gets knocked over once, when a big group of older kids overtake him because his legs aren’t very long and he can’t go fast enough. He grips the straps of his backpack very tightly and clenches his teeth together and wishes his heart would stop beating so hard it hurts his chest. He feels kind of sick, like heaps of bees are buzzing around in his tummy.

‘Steve, honey, are you sure you’ve got your lunchbox?’ Tony hears someone nearby say.

‘I got it, Mom,’ another voice replies, a kid’s voice, firm and sure of itself, and Tony turns round to see who it belongs to.

It’s a tiny kid, even smaller than he is, skinny and scrawny and with knobbly elbows and knees. There’s a lady with him, a lady who looks nice, sort of gentle and warm and smiling. She’s not holding the boy’s hand, but her hand is resting lightly on his shoulder so they don’t get separated. Tony’s tummy twists with an odd longing feeling.

They both have golden hair, the boy and the lady, very beautiful soft silky golden hair. Tony’s hair is dark and curly, like his dad’s. His mom’s hair is fair and silky, but it’s paler than this, cool and blonde. The boy and the lady have hair like sunshine, Tony decides.

He kind of wishes the boy would turn round and say hello. That would be nice. But the boy – Steve – is looking left and right with narrow eyes, frowning a bit.

‘Where we gotta go f'Room 17, Mom?’ he asks the lady, and oh! Tony’s stomach flips a bit with relief, because the boy must be in his class, and he’s been wondering where Room 17 was as well, because everything’s so –  _big_ , and he can’t see any signs over everyone else’s heads.

‘This way.’ The lady, Steve’s mom, points towards a corridor. They start making their way through the crown towards it, and Tony quickly follows them, trying to stick close behind so his doesn’t lose sight of them. Their sunshine hair is bright in the crowd, easy to keep sight of.

Room 17 has a picture of a robot of the door, a  _really cool_  robot, not just a baby picture. Steve and his mom are already through the door, and no-one’s pushing him, so Tony reaches out to touch the robot picture. It’s so cool. One day he’s going to draw pictures of robots like that, really neat ones, and then actually make them for real, so they can help him clean his room and stuff.

He suddenly remembers that he’s only supposed to look, not touch, unless he’s given permission, that’s what Dad and Mom always tell him. He snatches his finger away from the robot picture and quickly glances round, but luckily no-one’s noticed.

There’s a tall lady in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by the kids and parents. ‘Okay, everyone find a desk,’ she’s calling. She’s got bright red hair and every inch of her skin is covered in freckles, and she looks kind of firm but Tony thinks he likes her anyway. There’s a girl standing right next to her, a few years older than Tony, with straight shiny strawberry hair, and Tony hears the tall lady say to the girl, ‘Off to your class now, Pepper. Have a nice day, sweetheart.’

‘Bye Mom,’ the girl says. She passes Tony on her way to the door, and he sees that she’s got freckles all over too, but they’re paler than her mom’s.

He needs to get a desk, he suddenly remembers, and looks round in a bit of panic, because what if there isn’t any room left for him? But then he sees Steve and his mom choosing a desk at the side of the room, and there’s a spare one pushed up right next to it, and it suddenly feels like Tony  _has_  to get that desk, it’s the only one he wants.

Steve is unpacking his bag, putting his things on his desk. Tony stands there uncertainly, suddenly feeling a horrible churning feeling in his tummy again. What if – what if Steve doesn’t want him there? But then Steve’s mom looks up and sees him standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and her expression goes soft and she smiles at him.

‘Do you want to sit here, sweetheart?’ she asks. ‘There’s plenty of room, go on. What’s your name?’

‘TonyStark,’ Tony mumbles. It comes out too soft, his dad would frown at him and tell him to open his mouth and speak clearly. But Steve’s mom just crinkles her eyes. ‘Nice to meet you, Tony,’ she says. She doesn’t say it in a baby voice, either, Tony hates it when people do that.

He glances shyly at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve’s looking at him, too, steady and curious. His eyes are blue, like the sky, and he doesn’t look shy at all. ‘I’m Steve,’ he says. ‘You should sit here.’ Then he goes back to carefully organising his pencils. He has lots of colours.

That’s… okay. Tony lets out a relieved breath and edges into the seat, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his pile of stuff. Mom had given the list of stuff to Dad’s PA, because she was busy and couldn’t get it herself. But Tony had tipped out the bag she’s brought onto his bedroom floor and written his name on everything. He got the S for Stark right every time now. He used to get mixed up about which way the curl went, but that was ages ago, when he was little. Now he knows it’s the same as the logo on Stark Industries, of course. He knows all his letters now, and numbers up to 100, and he knows lots of other stuff too.

And if he does anything wrong, he can just watch and see what Steve does. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

Tony nudges his backpack under the table and opens his Numbers book to the back page. Then he picks out his sharpest pencil, and starts drawing his own robot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued! Next chapter will contain the title reference and introduce some of the other kid!Avengers. It’s already written and I’ll post it soon.
> 
> The classroom environment I’ve written here is heavily influenced by my own experience going to primary school in Australia – and also my experiences with the kids at the school where I now work. Write what you know, yeah. :) I’ve tried to keep the terminology neutral so it doesn’t jar with anyone, but if there’s anything that glaringly stands out to you, please let me know!
> 
> My original [Tumblr ficlet](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/158225067142/okay-but-what-about-tiny-tony-and-steve-growing-up) that inspired this story!


	2. Chapter 2

Ms Potts is a good teacher. She doesn’t look anything like a teapot, but she’s good. She lets Tony read more interesting books than the others, because he knows more words than them. And she likes his robot pictures. She even stuck one up on the whiteboard, his best one, the red and yellow one that looks a bit like a suit of armour.

(It was actually supposed to be red and  _gold_ , but Tony doesn’t have a gold pencil. Steve does. Steve has a very very special set of pencils, metal colours, which he got for his birthday. Gold and silver and bronze and metal red and metal blue and green and purple and orange. Steve’s very proud of them, and keeps them in a special pencil case of their own. They’re _so cool_.)

Tony even knows some of the other kids, now. There’s Steve, of course. Tony isn’t quite sure what to think of Steve. Steve likes drawing and sometimes fighting. He’s not scared of  _anyone_ , not even Ms Potts or probably even the principal. Tony doesn’t think he’s actually friends with Steve or anything like that, they don’t talk much, but Steve’s always there and Tony would rather sit next to Steve than anyone else in the class.

Natasha Romanoff is the girl who sits behind him. Her best friend is called Clint Barton and he sits next to her. She likes guns and he likes bows and arrows, and Tony’s a little afraid of both of them but he tries not to show it. Sometimes Natasha pokes Tony’s bottom with her ruler, when the teacher’s not watching, which is rude.

The boy who sits in front of Tony is called Justin Hammer and Tony doesn’t like him even a little bit. He says Tony’s robot pictures are dumb and that he can draw way better robots any day. And he says Tony’s curly hair is girly and once he tried to take one of Tony’s pictures and pretend it was his. Tony had got the picture back, because he turned it over and his name was on it. Justin had let Tony snatch it back so he wouldn’t get into trouble, but he glared at him and said ‘You stink.’ Tony hates him.

Justin only ever does anything when Steve’s over on the other side of the room. Tony’s not sure why, but he thinks it’s because Steve likes fighting. Steve would probably fight Justin Hammer and kick his butt, just because it was a good excuse, even though he’s not specially friends with Tony. That’s just the sort of thing Steve does.

After a bit, Tony realises there’s one thing that he can do to get Justin Hammer to leave him alone. He’s never really tried before, but one day he opens his mouth and taunts back at Justin, and realises to his delight that he can say mean enough things that Justin goes quiet and turns back around in his seat and gets on with his work. It’s an important discovery. Tony’s not very good at fighting with his fists, but now he has something he can hit back with, his tongue.

* * *

One day Steve leaves his gold pencil lying on the edge of his desk. Tony doesn’t mean to touch, but – it’s right there, and it’s  _so cool_ , a gold pencil! He rolls it a bit closer with his fingers, and Steve hasn’t come back yet, so he picks it up, looks at the end bit where the goldy lead sticks out of the wood. It can’t really be metal, so how come it looks like metal when Steve draws with it?

Tony really,  _really_  wants to try it.

He looks warily around to see where Steve is. Steve’s got his head in the craft box, rummaging around. He won’t notice if Tony just tries it a tiny bit.

Tony flips his Numbers book open to the back, where he does most of his best robot drawings, because it has criss-cross lines. He’s working on an extra special one at the moment, a robot armour man like the one on the board but even bigger and cooler. The helmet would look great if it was gold.

He does a few strokes, and wow, it’s so _gold_ and _shiny_ , especially if you press harder –

‘THAT’S MY FRICKEN PENCIL!’

Tony squeaks in terror and drops the pencil. Oh no, oh no, oh no no no, Steve’s back from the craft box, oh no no  _no…_

‘GIVE IT BACK!’ Steve roars. His face is pink and angry and his hands are making aggressive grabby fists at Tony’s side of the table, trying to get his pencil back.

‘I didn’t mean, I – I don’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, here,’ Tony says helplessly, shoving the pencil at Steve. Now Steve’s going to hate him, Steve’s going to gang up with Justin Hammer to be mean to Tony, this is the worst day  _ever_ , and the worst thing of all is the horrible guilty embarrassed feeling in the pit of his tummy. And the big sore lump in his throat.

‘Don’t EVER touch my stuff AGAIN,’ Steve says aggressively in Tony’s face, and Tony can’t help it, he lets out a little stupid sniff and dashes his hand angrily at his damp eyes. Stupid,  _stupid_ , he’s heaps too big to be  _crying_ , like a dumb baby, only babies cry, that’s what Dad says.

Justin Hammer is leaning over the back of his chair, gleeful. ‘Tony’s  _CRYING_ ,’ he says loudly. ‘Steve made Tony  _CRY,_ he’s  _CRYING!_ ’

Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns round to look. Ms Potts comes marching over. ‘Steve,’ she says sternly, ‘Is that true?’ She puts her hand on Tony’s shoulder, and he’s so ashamed of being a stupid crybaby, but it feels kind of good, warm and comforting.

Steve folds his arms sullenly, his jaw sticking out. He doesn’t say anything, so Tony knows he has to be the one to tell. ‘It was me,’ he whispers.

‘Tony  _STOLE_  Steve’s pencil!’ Justin Hammer crows from in front.

‘Justin, enough,’ Ms Potts says sternly.

‘I  _DIDN’T_  steal it,’ Tony cries. ‘It was – I was – borrowing!’

Ms Potts looks at all of them, at Tony’s trembling lip, Justin’s gleeful smile, Steve’s scowl, and closes her eyes for a moment, in a pained sort of way. ‘Okay,’ she says after a moment, ‘I think I’m going to have to separate you.’

Tony looks up at her, horrified. Steve’s head jerks up, a dismayed look on his face. ‘No!’ he says.

‘Yes,’ Ms Potts says firmly. ‘I’m moving Tony to the other side of the room.’ Her eyes run over the kids on the other side, and she gives a little nod. ‘Jane, please can you pack up your things and switch desks with Tony?’

‘Please,’ Tony says desperately, ‘ _Please,_  I’m sorry, I wanna stay, please, Ms Potts?’

‘Tony  _hasta_  stay here,’ Steve demands, aggressive, and Ms Potts’ eyes narrow.

‘Steve,’ she says warningly. ‘I’m moving Tony because you were fighting, and you know that fighting isn’t allowed in this classroom. Jane will be sitting here for the next week. After that, it will depend on your behaviour. Tony, pack up your things and move to Jane’s desk.’

Tony piles up his books quietly, trying not to cry. Steve has gone very quiet.

Jane sits next to a girl with glasses called Darcy. She looks at Tony inquisitively when he gets there, and watches him closely as he unpacks. Tony doesn’t look at her, because tears are prickling behind his eyes.

Ms Potts tells them to get out their Drawing books. Tony stares down at the page until it goes blurry, and then there’s a little splash and a wet blotch right on top of a picture he’d started of his Dad. Then there’s another, and another, and he can’t stop them because he’s never going to sit next to Steve again, now Steve’s got Jane next to him and Jane’s really, really pretty, Steve won’t ever want Tony back there because he’ll have Jane there and Jane won’t take his pencils without asking.

‘Sst. Tony. Are you crying?’ It’s the Darcy girl. At least she’s talking quietly. Tony turns his face away, rubbing fiercely at his eyes, because he doesn’t care, he doesn’t!

A warm, chubby little arm slips around him and cuddles. ‘You can cry if you want,’ Darcy informs him, patting him softly. ‘I don’t mind. An' your hair is nice. Can I play with it?’

‘No,’ Tony says, but he shifts his chair nearer and curls into Darcy a bit. It’s not like Dad will ever find out. Darcy tugs him even closer and settles him into her side, and starts playing with his hair anyway, but it’s okay.

‘Steve’s staring,’ Darcy tells him after a bit. She sounds pleased. Tony has to see, so he peeks over Darcy’s shoulder, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Steve isn’t paying any attention to Jane. He isn’t drawing either, which is weird, because Steve really, really loves drawing. He’s staring over at Tony and Darcy with his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth in a flat line.

‘He looks angry,’ Tony says, fearful.

‘Nah,’ Darcy says knowledgably. ‘He’s not angry, silly! He wants you to be sitting next to him, not Jane. But  _I’ve_  got you now,’ she adds, satisfied.

‘No you don’t,’ Tony corrects. He peeks back at Steve, ducking his face back into the safety of Darcy’s shoulder. ‘Do you really think…?’

‘Yeah.’ Darcy nods firmly. Then she says, ‘Hey, if I draw you a giant metal fire gorilla, can you draw me a cool robot with Darcy written on it?’

Tony thinks about it. A giant metal fire gorilla does sound pretty cool. ‘Yeah,’ he decides, and reaches for his Drawing book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re all enjoying this dramatic tale! O.o Who knows what hair-raising adventures the next chapter will hold…?


	3. Chapter 3

The week is the slowest ever. Tony keeps looking over to see whether Steve is talking to Jane. ‘What if he likes her better?’ he asks Darcy miserably. ‘She’s really pretty.’

Darcy giggles. ‘You’re pretty as well, Tony, don’t be silly!’ She gives him a little hug, too. Darcy does that a lot. Tony secretly kind of likes it, but he would still rather be sitting next to Steve.

Steve looks grumpy every day. He's not talking to Jane at all, because Jane comes over to see Darcy and complains about it. Jane's the kind of person who likes to make friends, but Steve won't talk to her at all, she says.

Natasha comes and sits on Tony's desk when Ms Potts isn't looking, because Ms Potts would tell her that bottoms were for chairs, not for desks. She swings her legs and grins at Tony and shows him her new dragon pencil case and the place where she lost a tooth yesterday. 'Steve's really cross with Justin Hammer,' she tells him. 'Steve says he's gonna  _punch_  him. In the nose!'

'No!' Tony says, worried. 'He mustn't!' If Steve punches Justin Hammer, Tony won't  _ever_  be allowed back.

'Okay, imma tell him,' Natasha says, unconcerned.

'Steve won't care,' Tony says woefully. He tries not to let his lip tremble, but he must fail, because Natasha pokes it.

'Silly,' she says in a sing-song voice. 'Silly, Tony, silly, Tony, silly Tony!'

‘Stoppit,’ Darcy pokes Natasha in her tummy, which Tony thinks is a very brave thing to do. ‘Don’t be mean to Tony. He’s my  _friend_.’

‘Okay,’ Natasha says agreeably, but Tony hardly hears her because he’s too busy staring at Darcy with round eyes.

Are they –  _friends?_  Wow. He – he hadn’t realised they were  _friends_ , it's one of those hard things that he's never quite sure of because he's never had friends before (except for maybe Rhodey who lives a long way away). But Darcy had said that Tony was her friend, right in front of Tasha, and Darcy knows all about things like that, so – so it must be really truly true.

He wants to ask and check, to make completely sure that Darcy meant it, but he doesn’t know what to say in front of Tasha, so he touches Darcy gently on the arm and looks at her pleadingly, hoping she'll understand what he means without him having to say anything out loud. Darcy tips her head around and looks at him upside down, being silly. Her glasses nearly fall off her nose. ‘We should have a friend han’shake,’ she says, coming back up the right way.

‘What’s a han’shake?’ Natasha asks curiously.

‘Like this,’ Darcy makes her pinky finger into a crook and reaches out for Tony’s hand, hooking his own pinky with hers. ‘See? Han’shake. You can only do it with friends.’

‘Friends,’ Tony whispers. There’s a lovely warm, warm feeling spreading out from the middle of his chest, and he looks up and grins shyly at Darcy. She beams back, giving his pinky a friendly little wriggle and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

‘Cool!’ Natasha says, fascinated. ‘Can I han’shake with you, Tony?’

Tony looks up at her wondrously. Is – is Tasha his friend, too? This is the best day  _ever_ , even if he can’t sit next to Steve. ‘ _Yeah,_ ’ he breathes, offering her his pinky.

Natasha hooks at it with a firm tug, grinning bright and gap-toothed. Then she tilts her head and looks at Darcy, considering. ‘Are we frien’s?’ she asks.

Darcy props her elbows on the table and cups her face in her hands to think about it. ‘We can be if you wanna,’ she decides. ‘But you gotta be nice to Tony.’

‘’Kay,’ Natasha says easily, and hooks Darcy’s pinky before doing a sideways crab-walk back to her own desk to share the news about pinky-shakes with Clint.

* * *

When the bell goes for break, Darcy grabs Tony’s hand. ‘C’mon,’ she says, bouncing. ‘Let’s run really fast and maybe we can get the good swings!’

‘I – I can’t push myself,’ Tony says softly, ashamed.

‘It’s okay, I gotta friend who can push us!’ Darcy urges, dragging Tony by the hand. ‘He’s big. C’mon, c’mon, we gotta get there first!’

Darcy’s big friend is called Thor, and he’s really,  _really_  big, with long hair that's almost as brightly golden as Steve's. Darcy bounces excited around him. ‘Can-you-push-us-on-the-swings-please-please-please,’ she bursts out, out of breath. Tony thinks that Thor’s going to tell them to go away, but he smiles good-naturedly down at them instead.

‘It would be my honour,’ he says gallantly. ‘Who is your friend?’ He has a different way of talking, slow and clear, not at all like the other big kids.

‘Tony,’ Darcy says happily, skipping as they move towards the swings. ‘He’s sitting next to me this week ‘cause Steve yelled at him.’ To Tony she says, ‘Thor comes from  _Norway_. He’s my friend ‘cause I ran into him once and bumped my head and he found my glasses for me.’

Thor boosts them both into the swing seats. Tony grips on tightly, excited. He hardly  _ever_  gets a swing. Darcy’s grinning at him, making small chirping sounds of anticipation as they start off slowly, getting higher and higher and higher till Tony's almost sobbing with excitement, wind rushing past him and whipping wildly through his hair, his fists clenched tightly on the ropes. It feels – it feels so wonderful, like flying –  _flying!_

When the bell goes, Thor catches them both and slows the swings to a stop. Tony's legs feel funny and wobbly when he tries to stand, but Thor puts a big hand on each of their shoulders, safe and steadying. Darcy flails round and flings her arms round Thor's neck and says, 'Thankyouthankyouthankyou!'

Tony twists his fingers together and glances shyly up at Thor. He wants desperately to say thank you as well, but his mouth is too scared, it just sort of opens and closes without saying anything.

But Thor seems to know what he means. 'I will see you around – little curly,' he says, grinning and ruffling Tony’s hair with a gentle hand. Tony _likes_ Thor, so he grins shyly back and manages a tiny murmur of thanks before Darcy grabs his hands and pulls him away.

* * *

When the week's over, Steve marches up to Ms Potts. 'Can Tony come back now?' he says loudly, getting to the point. Tony can't help hearing him, and he looks up with wide eyes, clasping his hands tightly together.

Ms Potts looks at Steve narrowly. 'Do you think you can sit next to each other without fighting?' she asks. 'And does Tony want to move back?'

'Yes,' Tony says, 'yes, please, Ms Potts, can I go back to my old desk?' He looks pleadingly up at her.

'Hm,' Ms Potts says. She purses her lips and looks back and forth between them. Tony holds his breath.

'All right,' she decides. 'No more fighting, though.'

* * *

Darcy hugs him goodbye, and Tony hugs back because Darcy's nice and his  _friend_. He carefully packs up all his books. There's his Darcy robot picture, finished now, which he tears carefully out and gives to her.

Then he walks very slowly back to his old desk.

Steve's got his head down when Tony gets there. He's drawing. Tony puts his stuff back on the desk, very quietly, and slides into his seat.

'Sorry,' Steve says gruffly, after a bit. He doesn't look up. 'You can – you can use my pencils whenever you want an' I'm drawin' you a picture.' It comes out in a rush. Steve's cheeks are pink.

Tony stares at him wonderingly. 'Really?' he says softly.

'Yeah.' Steve nods. They look at each other for a moment, not sure what to say.

Then Natasha reaches forward and affectionately pokes Tony's bottom with her ruler again. 'Hi Tony!' she says brightly.

'Don't  _poke_  my  _bottom,_ Tasha,' Tony says, a little bit cross.

Steve leans right over the back of his chair and glares at Natasha. 'Yeah, don't poke Tony's bottom!' he says, angrily. 'I'll - I'll...'

' _No,_ ' Tony says quickly, and then gulps. But Steve looks abashed. 'Sorry,' he says, but then points at Tasha's face. 'But don't!’ he adds, getting the last word before he plumps back into his chair. Natasha pokes her tongue out at his back.

‘Poking bottoms is rude,’ Jane says seriously, nodding. She and Darcy have come up with their arms linked together.

Natasha doesn’t look convinced, and Clint, who doesn’t talk much unless it’s to Tasha, says, ‘Why?’ in a curious sort of voice.

‘It just  _is_ ,’ Jane says.

‘People shouldn’t poke anyone’s bottoms except their own ones,’ Tony explains, thinking it through. ‘Yeah. ‘Cause you don’t have  _permission_.’

‘My mummies poke each other’s bottoms sometimes,’ Darcy chips in suddenly. Everyone turns to stare at her.

‘ _Really?_ ’ Tony says, incredulous. He can’t imagine his Dad and Mum doing anything like that, or any grown-up. ‘But – but what  _for?_ ’

Darcy shrugs. ‘Dunno,’ she says, unconcerned. ‘I s’pose they gave each other p’mission. They like each other lots,’ she adds. ‘They’re always  _kissing._  It’s gross.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: birthdays! And please go check out [kaitovsheiji](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitovsheiji/pseuds/kaitovsheiji)’s adorable, ADORABLE comic-style rendition of this story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10332164/chapters/22839329) and give her lots of kudos and comments! (She deserves them all, she’s lovely! <3)
> 
> If you want to see Tony, Steve and all the others as Storks-movie-style babies (made with [Baby Builder](http://babybuilder.storksmovie.com/)), they're [here](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/158886600357/kaitovsheiji-greymantledlady-okay-but-what) on my tumblr!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the wait, everyone! Anyway, here it is, chapter 4.

It’s Darcy’s birthday! Tony thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. Darcy brings lots and lots and  _lots_ of pink iced cupcakes that she helped make with her Mamá, one for everyone in the class. And she has a new bear, a wonderful pink and purple fluffy bear with floppy arms.

When they do Numbers, Tony finishes his really fast, because Numbers are easy peasy. He wants to draw a picture for Darcy, so he gets a big piece of white paper from the paper box and spreads it carefully out on the desk.

‘Watch’a doing?’ Steve says, leaning over to see. Steve hasn’t finished his Numbers, he’s only half way through, but Steve hates Numbers.

‘Gonna make a  _big_  picture for Darcy,’ Tony tells him proudly, unpacking his coloured pencils from his case. ‘Gonna have  _all_  of us on it. An’ Thor.’

Steve frowns and folds his arms, belligerent. ‘Why?’ he says. ‘You’re sitting next t’ _me_  now.’

Tony looks up at him worriedly. ‘But…’ he says. ‘But Darcy’s my  _friend_.’

Steve scowls, making a cranky sound. ‘Huh,’ he says grumpily, and hunches over his Numbers book, writing in the wrong answers very fast and pressing very hard and black with his pencil.

Tony bites his lip, hesitates. ‘You got that one wrong,’ he points out softly, and then flinches when Steve’s brows go down even further. ‘I mean, I – I could help you? An’ then we could draw it t’gether?’

Steve’s head pops up again. ‘YES,’ he says firmly. ‘T’ _gether._  Just us, not the others.’

* * *

The picture for Darcy is  _beautiful_. Tony draws Darcy in the middle, very carefully, with pigtails and a red dress because red's the best colour. He draws everyone else around her, Steve with bright blue eyes and Tasha’s red hair and Clint with a bow and arrow just like Robin Hood and pretty Jane and Tony himself with a black curly scribble of hair. Thor is behind the others, nice and tall and big.

Steve does the border. He draws long ropes up the sides and then adds other things like long curly snails in shells, and seahorses, and tanks, and some flowers. He points at Tony’s face when he sees him looking at the flowers. ‘Flowers AREN’T GIRLY,’ he says sternly, daring Tony to disagree, ‘they’re AWESOME.’

‘I – I like flowers,’ Tony says shyly, and then ducks his head. ‘I picked Mum roses once,’ he mumbles. But he’d got in trouble for that, the roses were special garden ones and not for picking. They’d been so pretty, though, pink and yellow and smelling wonderful, and he’d scratched his hands trying to make a bunch of them.

He glances back up at Steve, who’s looking at him curiously, head tilted to one side. And then Steve does something different, because he smiles a little bit at Tony, just a little tweak at the corner of his mouth.

‘Flowers are _cool_ ,’ Steve says companionably, and then he pushes his red and blue pencil case across the table. ‘You should share my colours.’

* * *

Darcy’s bear is really the most _best_ thing, so bright and beautiful and _soft_. Tony can’t take his eyes away from it. He curls up on the floor next to Darcy at story time and looks and looks and _looks_ at the bear on her lap, wondering what it would be like to hold.

Tony’s got lots of racing cars and aeroplanes and building sets and things, at home, but not very many bears. He just has two. There’s a big special fancy one that’s made out of pure white mohair and cost a lot of money. Everyone says he must make sure he doesn’t get it dirty, so it usually stays in a box at the top of the cupboard.

The other bear is very old. It belonged to Tony’s Dad, when he was little, which makes Tony feel funny, because he can’t imagine Dad ever being little and playing with bears and toys and things. Old-Bear is a little bit threadbare at the edges, and sits on the shelf usually, watching the room with a kind, tired face. Tony doesn’t think he’s supposed to really play with Old-Bear, so he just leaves him on the shelf mostly and talks to him sometimes, in his head.

(Except, only just _sometimes_ , when Tony’s feeling really bad, then he climbs up on his steps and fetches Old-Bear down and hugs him, just for a little bit, really carefully so he doesn’t get hurt.)

But Darcy’s bear is soft and cuddly and meant to be played with, just like Darcy’s doing now while Ms Potts reads them a story about a princess and a tree that grows balloons. Darcy strokes all the soft fur one way, and then smooths it all back. She straightens the bright pink bow around its neck. Then she holds the bear by its arms and makes it walk along the ground to Tony.

‘Do you wanna hold him?’ she whispers, and Tony looks at her, wide-eyed. Is Darcy really – is she really going to let him hold her special bear? Even though it’s her _birthday_?

‘C’mon,’ Darcy says encouragingly, and walks the bear into Tony’s lap. And Tony reaches out reverently and curls his arms around the bright fur and oh, it’s so _soft_ , even softer than he imagined, and he cuddles it and presses his face in it and then cuddles it some more.

Then Darcy gets him to put his head in her lap so she can play with his hair, and Tony likes Darcy playing with his hair so he lies down and cuddles the beautiful bear and listens to the story; and slips his thumb into his mouth because no-one’s there to tell him not to do it.

* * *

Tony huddles on the play bench and wraps his arms around himself, feeling sick and horrible and scared. Steve and Darcy are _fighting_ , they’re _fighting_ at lunchtime, and it’s all his fault, and he wishes they would stop and there’s a hot feeling behind his eyes like he’s going to cry.

‘Tony’s _MY_ friend,’ Steve hisses, glaring.

‘No he isn’t.’ Darcy folds her arms around the birthday bear and glares right back. ‘You’re _mean_ t’him.’

Steve snaps his teeth at her. ‘Am not, am NOT, I HATE YOU,’ he says angrily, but Darcy’s already going on.

‘An’ you don’t _look after_ him. And you didn’t friend-shake with him, so there!’

‘THAT’S STUPID AND YOU’RE STUPID AND I HATE YOU,’ Steve roars, and Tony jumps in fright, and bursts into tears.

* * *

Darcy sits down next to Tony on the bench and puts her arms around him. ‘Don’t cry, don’t cry,’ she says softly, ‘Tony Tony, don’t cry please.’ She pats him gently and glares at Steve over the top of his head.

Tony sniffles into Darcy’s soft round shoulder. He just wants _both_ of them to be _happy_ , Steve and Darcy. Not fighting, he doesn’t like them fighting, it’s too loud and too scary and reminds him of sometimes when Dad comes home angry and yells and yells.

Steve kicks the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His face is a little bit crumpled, as though he might want to be crying himself if he wasn’t _Steve_. ‘Sorry,’ he says gruffly, after a moment.

‘You hafta do _better_ n’that,’ Darcy says crossly, holding Tony tightly. ‘You gotta – hug. Or something. N’be _nice._ An not yell.’

Steve takes a deep breath. Tony watches tearily as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the bench, on Tony’s other side. There’s a moment where nothing happens, and then Tony lets out a hitching breath of surprise, because Steve is patting his shoulder with awkward gentle little pats.

‘Hug,’ Darcy prompts, and Steve actually shifts gingerly closer and puts his arm slowly and carefully around Tony. And now Tony’s being hugged from both sides, and it’s – nice, it’s _really really_ nice, and he doesn’t know why he’s still crying. He blinks at Steve through wet lashes, and Steve is watching him with a sort of worried face.

‘I – I really am. Sorry,’ Steve says in a small tense voice – and then, in a rush, ‘I won’t – I’ll try – Iwantyoutobemyfriendtoo.’

Tony catches his breath, staring at Steve with wet eyes. ‘You – _really?_ ’ he sniffles. ‘ _Me?_ ’

Steve hunches his shoulders. And then – then he stiffly sticks out his hand, pinky outstretched, and waits, scowling down at his knees.

There’s a big warm spot growing right in the middle of Tony’s chest, and he feels a smile start, beginning on the inside of him and then reaching his mouth and curling the edges up, up up. He starts smiling, and he can’t stop smiling and smiling and _smiling_ , and he reaches out shyly, and curls his little finger gently around Steve’s.

Steve’s pinky hooks tightly onto Tony’s and holds on, and then Steve breathes out a long breath and lifts his head and looks sideways at Tony, very quickly, and then away, and then back again. Tony still can’t stop smiling, wiping away the last little traces of tears; and then Steve smiles back, a little tweak at the corner of his mouth. His arm is still around Tony’s back, very careful and light, but warm.

It feels so good to be cuddled between his two _friends_ , and oh, Steve! Steve’s actually, really, truly his proper friend now. Tony hums happily in his throat and nestles in, enjoying it. Darcy giggles.

‘Tony sandwich,’ she says, pressing closer. ‘See! Steve n’me are bread, an’ you’re licky licky peanut butter!’

She pretends to lick Tony, and he squeaks and giggles and twists away. ‘No!’

Steve’s arm goes tighter around his back, and then Steve wraps both arms around Tony and tells Darcy sternly, ‘No licking Tony.’

Darcy sticks out her tongue at him, and Tony giggles and snuggles between them. And Darcy puts her bear in his lap to hold again, and Steve very carefully smooths one of Tony’s curls with his finger, and Tony feels like he could burst with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Tony’s birthday! Also, for reference [this](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/161201011667/darcys-bear-reference-photo-for-my) is Darcy's bear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS NO BIRTHDAY YET. I’m sorry? Blame my [current muse](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/163549614502/summer-by-alphonse-mucha-1896-my-muse-look-at); I just sit and write what comes to me from her gracious guidance. And I had to introduce a new character in order to set up my Tony-birthday-plans, so…
> 
> Note: In relation to some issues that come up in this chapter, I want to underline something. Steve’s mom is a single parent who has to work long hours at odd times to support him. This is a very different situation to Tony’s emotionally neglectful, absentee parents, even though at one point Tony makes a comparison between them. Just wanted to point that out!

‘When’s your birthday, Tony?’ Darcy asks, petting his hair as they sit on the floor surrounded by cardboard boxes and string.

‘Three weeks an’ four days,’ Tony tells her seriously, leaning his head on her shoulder. He knows _exactly_ , because he has a special calendar sticky-taped onto the inside of his closet door in his bedroom, and he’s marking off every day. This year Dad said he might be able to come to Tony’s birthday party, and every time Tony draws through another day with his fat red marker, he squeezes his eyes shut and clasps his hands together and wishes really _hard_ for a few moments.

If Dad comes, maybe – maybe Tony could show him the special thing he’s been working on in his room. It’s a remote control car, with a real circuit board and everything, and Tony’s nearly finished and it’s going to go so good. Maybe Dad will like it so much that he’ll even come and play catch with Tony afterwards. They’d done that once, when Tony was smaller, and it had been just the _best_ day, and Dad had been grinning and he’d shown Tony how to hold his arms so that he could catch the soft ball that they were playing with.

Steve pokes his arm. ‘ _Tony,_ ’ he says, ‘c’mon, tape,’ and Tony blinks. He’s resting his head against Darcy’s shoulder so she can pet his hair, and Steve’s sitting cross-legged next to him holding a toilet roll in place for Tony to sticky-tape. Steve keeps looking suspiciously at Darcy, but at least they’re not yelling.

(They’d _almost_ had another fight before, because Darcy had wanted the plane they were making to be red and gold, and Steve had wanted blue with stars. Luckily they’d agreed to do a mix of both, so now the plane’s going to be blue and red with white stars.)

‘Mummy ‘n’ Mamá are gonna take me t’the Pirate Park after school!’ Darcy chatters. ‘We’re gonna have a _picnic party_ together. An’ we got cookies with pink icing!’

Tony looks at her wistfully. Darcy’s so _lucky_ , she has the softest teddy and mums who make cupcakes with her and take her on picnics. But Darcy is really nice, she deserves nice things. He sighs a little bit, softly, and puts some more tape on the plane’s engine to make sure it doesn’t fall off.

Steve puts the other engine-toilet-roll in place. ‘On my birthday mom made cake n’left a birthday letter with pictures,’ he says, frowning in concentration as he positions it just right. ‘She couldn’t be there until late cause she hasta work heaps. But it ain’t her fault!’ he adds fiercely, glaring briefly up at them. ‘She just hasta.’

Tony nods understandingly, because yeah, his Dad is like that too. He bumps his knee gently against Steve’s, so Steve knows it’s okay, and Steve untenses. ‘Let’s colour the struts,’ Tony suggests, tracing a star shape on Steve’s shoulder with a capped marker pen, and Steve grabs a big handful of popsticks.

* * *

Next week, Tony comes to school and goes slowly to his desk and puts his head down and curls his arms around it so no-one can see his face.

He’d thought – he’d _really_ thought that Dad might be able to come to his birthday this year. But then last night Dad had said he was going away for four weeks, and – and – Tony’s not _stupid_ , he knows how to count and he’d gone and checked on his calendar to make absolutely completely sure, even though he _knew_ …

Dad’s not going to come to his party.

Tony doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it. He presses his nose into the desk and smells the woody pencil-shaving smell, and squeezes his eyes closed around the hot wetness that keeps gathering. It’s _silly_ , he _knew_ Dad was always busy and might not be able to come but he’d – he’d hoped a little bit, anyway.

Something touches Tony’s arm, but he snuffles and hunches his shoulders and keeps his arms tightly circled around his face. He hopes they go away and leave him alone.

‘Hey. Tony.’ It’s Steve, but Tony doesn’t – he doesn’t care! He’s going to stay with his head on the desk _forever_ , because everything _sucks_ and Dad never _comes_ and he can’t stop _sniffling_.

But Steve’s hand just squeezes his arm, rough and comforting, and then tentatively moves around to rest on Tony’s back. ‘It’s okay,’ Steve says gruffly. ‘Y’can – y’can cry, I don’t care, I’ll – I’ll _punch_ anyone who laughs. ‘Specially Justin. Did he make you cry? I’ll kick his butt, I _will!_ ’ And Steve’s hand disappears from Tony’s back, and Tony hears him jumping up, quite as if he’s going to march off right then and there and start kicking Justin Hammer’s butt on suspicion alone.

‘No!’ Tony says very quickly, peeking out through a gap in his arms. ‘N-no, Steve! He didn’t! Y-you’ll get in _trouble!_ ’ Though it’s – it’s kind of nice that Steve will punch anyone who makes Tony cry. Steve’s so _fierce_ always.

‘Okay,’ Steve says reluctantly, and sits down again. Tony snuffles, woebegone, and shifts a little bit closer to Steve on his chair. He doesn’t want Steve to go away, really, and Steve’s hand had felt good on his back. He wants Steve to put it back there, and, and _pet_ him.

Steve hesitates, and Tony sucks in a hopeful sniffly breath, and then Steve’s hand comes to rest carefully on Tony’s back again. ‘It’s – it’s okay,’ Steve says again, and his voice is kind of – soft, and Tony likes it. He cries a little bit more, and Steve starts carefully patting him.

After a bit Steve says awkwardly, ‘My mom – says you hafta _tell_ someone why y’sad. So you feel better. Y’know.’

Tony shifts his arm so he can peek up sideways at Steve. ‘Really?’ he whispers.

Steve says ‘Yeah,’ and strokes his hair lightly, and Tony sighs and blinks up at him.

‘My – my Dad can’t come,’ he whispers. ‘To my _birthday_. I thought – I thought he could this time, he _said_ – but he’s going a-away, for, for _ages…_ ’ He trails off with a quiver.

‘That _sucks_ ,’ Steve says fiercely. Then he turns around and says in a cross whisper, ‘Go _away_ Tasha.’

Tony sniffs and peeks behind him. Tasha and Clint are hanging over their desks, watching, and so Tony hides his face again, embarrassed.

‘Hey Tony,’ Tasha says. ‘Do you want hugs?’

Tony wriggles a little bit. He always wants hugs. ‘Yeah,’ he says, muffled and hopeful.

‘He ain’t _yours_ ,’ Steve says belligerently to Tasha, and he flops quickly on top of Tony’s back, squeezing his arms round him before Tasha can get there. Tony squirms in delight and twists round so he can hug Steve back, cuddling into Steve’s bony shoulder.

And after _that_ , Tasha jumps on top of both of them, giggling, and says ‘Huggy pile!’ and squishes them both; Steve growls at her a little bit, in the bottom of his throat, but Tony hugs him tight so he can’t start fighting, and Steve seems to be okay with that.

Then Tasha goes back to her chair by climbing under the desk, and Tony hears Clint say really quietly, ‘Tash, hug for me too?’ and so Tasha gives _him_ a hug, and Steve’s arm is still hooked round Tony’s shoulder, and everything feels better after hugs.

Tony sighs and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve says, ‘Hey can you help me with my Numbers?’ and Tony wipes his nose on his sleeve and smiles wetly and nods.

* * *

‘This is my Mamá,’ Darcy tells everyone proudly. She’s standing at the front of the class for Show and Tell, and she’s actually got her Mamá right there to show everyone! In her police uniform! It’s so cool, and Tony’s sitting next to Steve at his desk, looking at her in awe.

Darcy’s Mamá looks nice, warm and laughing. Her eyes are all dark and sparkly, and she’s got her arm around Darcy’s shoulders as she moves round the room, answering everyone’s questions. Tony wonders if Darcy would mind if he came and said hi. Probably not? He doesn’t think Darcy would mind. But it’s kind of scary, so he stays safely next to Steve, just watching.

Then Darcy looks up and sees him, and her face spreads into a big smile and she waves and beckons enthusiastically. Her Mamá’s looking over and smiling too, and Tony suddenly feels terribly, awfully shy, his body going all tight and stiff and scared.

‘Steve,’ he whispers, touching Steve’s arm fearfully. ‘Steve – look, Steve.’

Steve looks. ‘Yeah,’ he says shortly.

‘They – they want me to go over there!’

‘Huh,’ Steve says, folding his arms. After a moment he adds, ‘My mom’s cooler.’ He sounds rather defensive.

‘I know,’ Tony reassures him. ‘Your mom’s _nice_. I met her.’ He peeks back across the room to where Darcy’s showing her Mamá the things on her desk. ‘Steve,’ he says softly. ‘Steve, can you – can you please come too?’ He looks pleadingly at Steve, clasping his fingers together.

Steve looks happier suddenly, his neck going straight. ‘Yep,’ he says sturdily, and Tony breathes out in relief. He always feels braver when Steve’s with him.

Steve stands up straight and squares his shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘I’ll look after you, Tony, m’kay?’ He puts his arm around Tony, and Tony sighs happily. Friends are so _nice_.

* * *

‘Mamá! This is Tony an’ Steve!’ Darcy says. ‘Tony’s my friend, he’s really nice and smart and likes hugs and you have to be nice to him. An’ that’s Steve.’ She pushes her glasses up her nose with one hand and adds, ‘Me ‘n’ Steve are sorta friends. A bit.’

Steve looks sceptical. ‘Hm,’ he says doubtfully.

‘Well, we’re both frien’s with Tony, right?’ Darcy says. ‘An’ Tony got sad ‘cause we were fighting. So we gotta be a bit friends or Tony will be sad again.’

‘Okay,’ Steve says quickly, glancing at Tony. ‘Yeah. Sorta friends.’

Darcy’s Mamá’s eyes are like twinkly laughing stars. ‘Pleased to meet you, Tony and Steve,’ she says, smiling down at them. ‘I’m Maggie. Darcy’s told me all about you, Tony.’

Tony bites his lip and looks down at his feet. He doesn’t know what to say and his words are gone, even though Darcy’s Mamá – Maggie – is nice and friendly-looking and has a kind voice. He shrinks into Steve’s side, and then he feels Steve’s rough little hand grasping his own and squeezing reassuringly. It makes him feel a little bit better.

‘Darcy said you three made a plane together last week,’ Maggie says gently, crouching down so she’s at their level. ‘Can I see it?’

Steve brightens. ‘It was Tony’s idea,’ he tells her, proudly. ‘He’s real good at making stuff. An’ Numbers. An’ everything.’

Tony blushes, looking down at the ground and feeling warm and pleased and excited. Steve thinks he’s good at stuff! He squeezes Steve’s hand to say thank you.

‘Steve’s the best at drawing,’ he whispers, glancing up quickly to meet Maggie’s eyes.

Darcy is nodding knowingly. ‘Steve’s best at drawing and fighting, Tony’s smartest and huggiest,’ she tells her Mamá. ‘I’m best at being friends.’

Maggie smiles at that, with deep dimples. ‘I see,’ she says, as Darcy grabs her hand and tugs it.

Then Darcy bounces on her feet and says ‘Come look!’ and pulls Maggie over to the long shelf at the back of the room, where the plane is sitting. Tony and Steve trail along behind, Steve still firmly holding Tony’s hand.

And Maggie _really likes_ the plane! She even knows all about the engines and stuff, because she did a whole Engineering degree! And she looks a little bit shocked when Tony shyly asks about the thrusters and the angle of the ailerons, but it’s okay because after a moment she just smiles again and explains how they work, and Darcy’s Mamá is _so cool_.

When it’s time for Maggie to go, she gives Darcy a hug and a drops kisses on each of her cheeks. ‘Bye, darling girl,’ she says; and then she turns to Tony and Steve. ‘It was nice to meet you,’ she says, and she pats Tony’s shoulder; and Tony sighs happily at the touch and smiles softly up at her because she’s really nice.

‘Tony likes hugs,’ Darcy says to her Mamá, and Tony looks at her sideways, hopeful.

Maggie laughs. ‘Do you?’ she asks Tony, and her voice is so gentle and warm that it makes Tony inch forward a little and nod. And so Maggie reaches out her arms and gives him a quick warm hug, and Tony hugs back and somehow there’s a big sort of lump in his throat. Maggie’s hug is like – like when his mom hugs him, except that hardly ever happens any more now he’s big. It’s a _good_ hug, but it makes him feel like crying, which is very stupid and doesn’t make _sense_.

After Maggie goes, Tony doesn’t feel much like talking, so he goes and curls up on a cushion in the reading corner with a really cool book called Bill the Inventor. After a few minutes, Steve marches across with a handful of pencils and his Drawing book, and says, ‘Move over,’ and then wedges himself against Tony, comfortingly close.

Tony curls his knees in and tucks himself into Steve’s side with a sigh. And Steve skritches with his pencils while Tony reads, and it’s quiet and nice and the tightness in Tony’s throat slowly fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hopefully_ , the next chapter will actually include Tony's birthday this time...
> 
> Bill the Inventor by Garth Nix is a real book that I read as a kid. So is the book Ms Potts was reading to the class in the last chapter - The Balloon Tree by Phoebe Gilman. :)
> 
> Does anyone recognise Maggie?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I didn’t update for so long, but things have been _intense_ (in both good and bad ways) for me over the last six months. Please don’t leave comments about how long I’ve taken; my life is not exactly an easy one and I’ve been doing my best. I’ve been writing this chapter slowly over the entire time, though. Hope you enjoy!

‘Oh, that reminds me, Anthony.’ Tony’s Mom looks up from her magazine, across the breakfast table. She looks very beautiful this morning, with a peacock blue dress and her hair in an elegant twist. ‘I had a call last night, from the mother of one of your friends. Maggie, I think she said. Something about a birthday party with some of the other children?’

Tony goes very still, stopping his toy car where it’s been quietly driving along the edge of the tablecloth. A birthday party? Whose birthday? Darcy’s already had her birthday. Maggie called his Mom! He looks at Mom with wide eyes.

She smiles at him distractedly, glossy nails clicking on the edge of her glass. ‘Would you like to go, dear? I said you could, but you don’t have to, of course.’

‘Whose – whose birthday?’ Tony falters. He has to know, because they only birthday he can think of soon is – but no, it couldn’t be. Could it?

Mom looks surprised. ‘Oh – yours, of course, Anthony. Did you remember it was coming up soon?’

Tony takes a deep wondering breath, clutching at the little red car. Maggie phoned his Mom. He’s going to have a party, a birthday party _with friends_ and – and maybe, maybe a picnic like Darcy had, and games and cookies and _friends_ , and maybe Dad won’t be there but he’ll still have a party! On his birthday!

‘Of course, your father will be interstate, so you and I will just have our usual dinner, but this will be in the afternoon,’ Mom’s saying as she cuts her toast into dainty fingers, but Tony hardly hears.

‘ _Yes,_ ’ he says joyfully, ‘yes, please Mom, I wanna go. Want to go,’ he corrects quickly, because Mom and Dad like him to speak clearly.

‘Of course, dear,’ Mom says vaguely, and then Tony just _can’t help it_ , he’s too happy, so he slips out of his chair and scampers to the other end of the table and gives Mom a light shy kiss on her cheek, ducking his head. ‘Oh!’ she says, surprised and faintly pleased, and pats his cheek with soft fingers. ‘Oh, Tony. Such a sweet child.’

Tony glows. He nearly almost gives her a hug, too, but remembers just in time that hugs are for school, not home. Mom doesn’t really enjoy hugs very much, but that’s okay, he can give her kisses sometimes instead. He smiles happily up at Mom again, and then it’s time to say goodbye because the car has come to take him to school.

* * *

Darcy’s waiting for him, just inside the classroom door. ‘Tony Tony!’ she says, beaming. ‘Did your Mom tell you? Did she? Are you gonna? Please please please please, we gonna have cupcakies an’ picnic and pass parcels and hide’n’seek!’

Tony beams at her, feeling too overcome to speak. He nods hard instead, up and down, and Darcy shrieks so loud that Ms Potts calls out, ‘Indoor voices!’ And then Darcy sweeps him into a tight excited hug and then grabs his hand and pulls him along to his desk.

Natasha’s sitting on her desk with her feet swinging, grinning. Clint has his head cocked to one side, and he’s tearing some purple paper into heaps of little bits. Jane’s there, too, showing Steve her pink woven friendship bracelet. Steve’s looking interestedly at the bracelet, but he looks up when Darcy and Tony arrive, and his face softens a bit.

‘Said YES, SAID YES!’ Darcy squawks, letting go of Tony’s hand and spinning in a circle, hugging herself. Tasha fist pumps, and Clint carefully copies her, and Jane claps her hands.

Steve doesn’t do anything, but he looks pleased. Tony slips into his chair, and Steve bumps his shoulder gently with his own. ‘Cool,’ he says, and Tony sighs happily and grins back at him.

* * *

Tony’s bent over his desk, drawing. Steve and Tasha are up the front doing extra Maths, so their seats are empty.

‘Whatcha drawin’?’ Clint says quietly, close behind him, and Tony jumps. He didn’t realise Clint was there. Clint is leaning forward, right over his desk, to see what Tony’s doing, a curious look on his freckled face.

‘It’s a tower building,’ Tony tells him shyly. He doesn’t know Clint _very_ well, but he likes him okay. Clint’s Tasha’s friend, and he’s pretty quiet mostly. He doesn’t always hear stuff. Once he got scared and started crying quietly and hid in a cupboard, and Ms Potts had to call Clint’s Daddy to come and fetch him. Clint’s Daddy dressed a bit like Dad, neat and buttoned into a shirt, but his face was different, tired and gentle.

Clint reaches even further over, so that Tony’s nearly scared he’s going to fall right off, and points at a flat bit near the top of Tony’s building. ‘Whassat?’

‘Landing pad!’ Tony says, pleased. ‘Do you… do you wanna see the plane that’s gonna land on it?’ He peeks at Clint uncertainly, but Clint’s nodding, his face solemn and intent.

Tony flips through his Drawing book to find the plane picture. He turns round when he finds it. ‘Look!’

Clint looks at the plane and the home building for a long time. ‘I like them,’ he decides, and Tony beams at him. Clint looks back with a serious face, but after a long moment he offers a careful little smile. ‘Who lives there?’ he asks in a quiet voice.

‘Oh!’ Tony says excitedly. This is the _best_ bit about his tower. ‘It’s for friends! I’m gonna live there, an’ so is also _everyone_ who’s my friends. An’ – an’ everyone’s got their own rooms but they all live t’gether, and watch movies an’ eat cakes ‘n’ hot dogs ‘n’ stuff. An’ it’s got a whole room full of Legos!’

Clint nods slowly. ‘Cool,’ he says in a small voice. Then he looks down at his hands and asks quietly, ‘Me too?’

Tony stares at him, his mouth falling open in surprise. Clint’s looking small and hunched and lonely, and Tony suddenly has a funny kind of hurting in his chest, because Clint looks just like Tony feels sometimes. He’s always been a little bit afraid of Clint, but – but maybe, maybe Clint just wants friends, just like Tony wants friends.

Tony sucks in a deep breath. He thinks about Darcy hugging him and Steve fighting anyone who’s mean to him, to make himself braver. And then he gently pushes his curly pinky finger towards Clint, and says, very softly, ‘D’you want to be friends?’

There’s a long pause, and Tony’s face gets hotter and hotter and Clint doesn’t say anything and oh, no, Clint doesn’t want to be friends with him at _all_ , and Tony’s shrinking down small into his shoulders.

But then – then Clint whispers, ‘Yeah,’ and warily edges his finger across the table to hook into Tony’s.

Tony sighs in relief, a big smile spreading across his face. Clint’s pinky is small and rough and warm, and Tony squeezes it gently. ‘That’s _cool_ , that we’re friends,’ he says emphatically, and Clint nods.

* * *

Tony wakes up with the sun shining through his window. There’s a lovely warm bubbly feeling inside his chest, and he remembers, oh! It’s his birthday! And he’s _six_ , and he has friends, and he’s having a party after school, and everything is wonderful.

He tumbles out of bed and scampers over to the window to look at the sky. It’s bright and beautiful and blue and it’s his _birthday_ and Tony wants to jump and shout and dance around with excitement and hug someone. He wraps his arms around himself instead, with a little delighted shiver of happiness, and goes over to the shelf where Old-Bear sits and watches.

‘I’m six!’ Tony whispers. ‘I’m six, I’m six!’ He reaches up and lifts Old-Bear carefully down from the shelf, and wraps his arms carefully around him and presses his face into Old-Bear’s threadbare tatty fur. He smells old and safe, and Tony breathes in a deep breath and hugs Old-Bear gently, and makes a secret, secret birthday wish.

‘Please – _please_ let people like me,’ he whispers, ‘ _please_.’

Old-Bear looks at him with his tired kind black eyes, and Tony hugs him and pretends that Old-Bear says, ‘I love you.’

* * *

Tony’s just gotten out of the car outside school when he hears someone say, ‘Hey. Tony.’

He looks up in delight, because it’s Steve! Steve’s waiting for him outside school, with his hands shoved in his pockets and an intent, earnest sort of look on his face. ‘Hi Steve!’ Tony says happily, and scurries over to him, hauling his schoolbag.

‘Happy Birthday,’ Steve says intensely, and Tony beams.

‘I’m _six!_ ’ he says proudly.

Steve nods, and shifts on his feet. ‘Do you want…’ he says, and makes a flapping sort of gesture with his arms; and Tony feels all lit up from the inside with happiness, because _birthday hugs!_ From _Steve!_

‘Y-yes?’ he says, a little bit choked, and drops his bag and offers his arms eagerly for his hug. Steve wraps his arms around him, tight and good and firm, with his pointy chin pressing into Tony’s neck. Tony rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and sighs blissfully, closing his eyes.

It’s _so_ good. Tony thinks he could stay like this for _ever_ and never get tired of it, but after a bit Steve carefully pats Tony’s back, and they have to go to the classroom soon, so Tony reluctantly lets go, smiling at Steve with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes.

Steve gives him a careful grin back. ‘I’ll carry your bag,’ he tells Tony with a firm nod, picking it up, and Tony blushes.

‘Okay,’ he says in a soft voice.

Steve turns around and beckons, and Tony looks up, and it’s Steve’s Mom. (Her name is actually Sarah, she’d told Tony to call her that the second time they’d met.) ‘Oh, so I’m allowed to come over now?’ she asks Steve, half-laughing, and Steve’s face goes kind of pink and he scuffs his feet.

Tony looks shyly up at her, and she’s smiling, looking lovely and soft and kind. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ she says gently, and puts her hand on his shoulder with a little squeeze. Tony basks in it, leaning happily into the touch, and her face goes even softer.

The bell rings. Sarah kisses Steve goodbye, because she has to go, and Steve hoists his own bag onto his shoulders as well as Tony’s. ‘No,’ he says sternly, when Tony tries to take it back, and starts marching off towards the class, Tony scampering to catch up and walk alongside him.

And after a few steps, Tony feels rough little fingers reach for his hand. Steve’s not looking at him, but he’s holding Tony’s hand, and Tony feels proud and shy and warm all over, because Steve’s his favourite of _anyone_ and he’s holding his hand and it’s _so nice_. He squeezes back, and they walk hand in hand to class.

* * *

Tony sits between Darcy and Steve, in the car after school. He’s shivering, just a little bit, because it’s so – exciting, and different, and it feels a little bit like he’s in a dream or something.

But then Steve reaches out, very carefully, and squeezes his hand without saying anything. Tony squeezes back gratefully. Steve’s hand is hard and small and safe, and Tony doesn’t know why Steve keeps taking his hand but he likes it _lots_. Steve’s cheeks are very pink, and he doesn’t look at Tony, just keeps holding tightly as Darcy chats to everyone and sings songs from all her favourite movies.

When they get to the picnic grounds, the first thing Tony sees is balloons. Floaty red and gold balloons, tied on long strings to weights on the four corners of a big picnic blanket. There’s people there already – lots of people, it seems like, and as Tony slips out of the car, something goes watery and terrified in his stomach, and he feels suddenly, frighteningly, like crying. He can’t – he doesn’t know them… what if they hate him? What if they – what if they…?

‘Steve,’ he whispers, clinging on to Steve’s hand and stopping still. ‘ _Steve…_ ’

Steve looks at him quickly, and stops as well. ‘Hey,’ he says gruffly, and then his arm is coming round Tony’s shoulders in a protective sort of way.

‘I – I, I don’t know,’ Tony says in a tiny, shaky voice. ‘Steve,’ and he closes his eyes tightly so he doesn’t have to see all the strange people. His legs are wobbly, so he sits down abruptly on the grass, eyes still squeezed shut. He can feel Steve plonking down too, his arm still around Tony, and Tony’s fingers clutch at the bottom of his hoodie.

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ That’s Maggie’s voice, sounding soft and distressed. And then Tony feels Darcy come squeezing up on his other side, patting his hand and stroking his hair.

‘Tony Tony,’ she says soothingly, up and down, and Tony gulps.

‘Sorry, sorry, m’sorry,’ he whispers, ‘sorry…’

Maggie’s kneeling in front of him. ‘It’s okay, Tony,’ she says gently, as he trembles. ‘It’s okay. Can you breathe for me? Deep breaths in and out.’ Her voice is warm and kind and reassuring, and Tony swallows again and finds he can breath along with Maggie. Steve is gently patting on his back, and Darcy is cuddly on his other side, and after a bit Tony opens his eyes again.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ Maggie says. She’s sitting on the ground too, not trying to rush him along, just unscrewing the cap from a water bottle. ‘Do you want a sip of water?’ She doesn’t try to push it into his hands, just sets it down on the ground where Tony can reach it.

‘Thank you,’ Tony whispers, and reaches for the bottle with his free hand. He’s feeling better, now, with Steve and Darcy with him, but he wants to just stay here for a little bit.

After a few minutes Maggie goes away and comes back hand in hand with a tall lady with red hair like Ms Potts, except for that it’s straight and short instead of long and curly. She has a nice smile, like Maggie, and when Darcy sees her she jumps up and runs to give her a hug. ‘Mummy!’

Darcy’s other mother is called Alex, and she has soft eyes that make you feel safe. She doesn’t fuss over Tony, or make him feel stupid, just sits on the ground as well and starts picking daisies and showing them all how to make flower crowns. It’s _cool_ , making flower crowns, and soon Tony is giggling and trying to wind the little flower stems together like she shows them, and he can’t remember why he was so scared before.

When they walk over to the picnic blanket, Steve keeps a firm grip on Tony’s hand. Clint and Natasha and Jane are there, munching, and they look up and grin and wave. Even Clint gives a small smile, and Tasha tells Tony, through a mouthful, that his flower crown looks nice. Tony grins back, pleased. ‘I can show you how,’ he offers, and Tasha nods.

‘I’ll make one for my Pops,’ she says.

Steve makes a spot for Tony and him on the edge of the blanket, and Tony sits down and crosses his legs, looking around wide-eyed. He's never been on a picnic party before, so he doesn't quite know what to do, but after a bit it doesn't seem like there's many rules at all. Everyone just starts eating, and there's not much in the way of plates and forks but no one seems to care.  
  
Maggie offers him a little folded up pocket thing, toasted on the outside and with melted cheese dolloping deliciously out of the corners. Tony thanks her politely but looks dubiously at the strange piece of food, not sure what it is. But Steve's grabbing one of the pockets eagerly and taking a huge bite, so Tony thinks it must be nice.  
  
The first bite is so good that it makes Tony hum with happiness. The pocket is all folded up around bits of chicken and ham and lettuce and barbeque sauce, and lots and lots of melted cheese, and it isn’t anything like what Tony eats at home but it's full of delicious flavour. 'S'good!' he tells Maggie worshipfully, and then remembers that his mouth is full and blushes deeply, covering it with his hand.  
  
But Maggie just grins at him and pats his arm. 'Have another one then,' she offers, and so Tony does.

Clint’s Daddy is here too, and Tony finds out that he’s called Phil and he has a kind, quiet voice like faraway traffic on a road. Then, halfway through eating, Sarah arrives wearing the prettiest blue dress like a floaty butterfly, and a carrying a big hamper which Steve runs to help her with. ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone,’ she says, smiling, ‘I had to finish my shift at the hospital.’

After the pockets, there’s fairy bread and cupcakes from the hamper and pink fizzy drink, and then Phil pulls out a big cakebox and opens it, and Tony’s eyes get bigger and bigger with wonderment, because it’s a huge big chocolate cake shaped like a _whole aerodrome!_ It has heaps of thick frosting and little M &M’s for lights all around the edges of the runways, and small coloured toy planes ready to take off. Phil asks him which plane he wants, and Tony ends up with a big slice of cake and seven M&M’s and a tiny red biplane balancing on top.

He offers the plane back, after he’s finished his cake, but Phil says no, it’s for him to keep. Tony has other planes at home, of course, big ones with lots of parts, but this one is a _birthday party_ one, and he likes it better than all of them. It fits into the palm of his hand, and it’s small, like him. Tony can’t stop smiling and smiling, and he says thank you three times, and Phil smiles back at him with crinkles around his eyes and helps him wrap it in a serviette to take home.

They play three different games on the grass, and Tony and Darcy and Natasha end up getting the giggles after they do something funny with a beanbag, called Hot Potato. After that, they go on a walk to find flowers to make more crowns with. Maggie even helps Tony find flowers that will be good to take back to Mom, and a jar to put them in, and they sit side by side on the grass near the others to make a pretty arrangement in the jar.

‘Maybe Mom’ll read me a story, tonight,’ Tony tells Maggie wistfully, because he likes that. When Mom’s not too busy sometimes she’ll come and say goodnight with a light kiss brushed over Tony’s cheek; and sometimes, just every now and then, she’ll let him pick a story, and rest her hand on his back while she reads and shows him the pictures.

When he looks back up at Maggie, her eyes look sad for a moment, but then she smiles her smile with the pretty dimples and the sadness disappears. ‘The flowers are beautiful, sweetheart,’ she says. ‘Your mum will love them, I know.’ She puts her arm around his shoulders, and Tony sighs happily and leans into her side.

‘I like flowers,’ he confides. ‘Did you know that Steve likes flowers too? Does Darcy like flowers? Does Darcy pick flowers for you?’

Maggie chuckles, and Tony realises he’s been asking too many questions, and that’s rude. ‘Sorry,’ he whispers, but Maggie’s shaking her head, softly squeezing his shoulder.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ she says gently. ‘You can ask me any sort of questions you like, and I’ll answer them if I can. I didn’t know that Steve liked flowers, but that’s nice. And Darcy does like flowers, especially big bunchy roses, and she picks them for both Alex and me, and we put them in a vase in the kitchen.’

Tony relaxes again. Maggie doesn’t try to make him say any more, but it’s nice just sitting there with her in the sunshine.

* * *

It’s nearly time to go home, and everyone comes and gives Tony hugs and hugs and _hugs_ until he’s full and warm all the way to the inside of his tummy. And Steve pats Tony’s back carefully and gives Tony’s curls a gentle little tweak, and then he pulls back and says gruffly, ‘We gotta present f’you.’

Tony’s eyes go very round, because, a present? He hadn’t thought he would get a present, not as _well_ as his birthday party. But Darcy’s standing there, looking pleased and bounceful, holding a roundish lumpy parcel wrapped in pink paper with a gold bow. ‘Open it, open it!’ she says, and puts it in Tony’s hands.

It’s comfortably heavy in his arms. Tony looks around wide-eyed for a moment, but everyone’s smiling at him, even Steve, a little bit, and Steve gives him a little nod. So Tony pulls at the beautiful gold bow, and it comes apart easily, and then tugs at the pretty pink paper, and it falls off.

And – _oh._

There’s soft, curly white fur – and a round, cuddly stuffed body with a floppy tail, and a bright pink bow, and a little pink nose, and black eyes and the sweetest little face Tony has ever, ever seen, a little bit like a cat and a little bit like a bear and even a little bit like a puppy. And it sits there and looks up at him as though it’s asking to be picked up and cuddled and loved, and Tony draws in a tiny disbelieving breath.

It’s so _beautiful._ He touches it very gently with the tips of his fingers, and it’s soft, soft, so _soft_ , and he suddenly can’t almost _stand_ it and he buries his face in the soft fur and wraps his arms around it and hugs it and hugs it and hugs it. ‘ _Thank you_ ,’ he says, muffled, and then looks up and says it over and over again, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you!’

Tasha’s shouting gleefully, saying that everyone helped to choose it, and Steve is standing tall and looking pleased and proud.

‘It’s a CatBearPuppy,’ Tony whispers, awed; and the CatBearPuppy smiles back at him in a friendly sort of way.

* * *

And that night, Mom sits on Tony’s bed and smiles at him gently and reads him a story called ‘Scuppers, the Sailor Dog’, which is a really, really great story about a dog who builds and invents and fixes things. And Tony reaches out, and shyly, slowly curls his fingers around her smooth ones; and Mom looks surprised for a moment but then presses his hand gently and holds it, and it’s _so nice_ , and Tony nestles his cheek contentedly on his pillow as he listens.

When Mom finishes the book, she sets it lightly on Tony’s bedside table, but sits there for a moment, holding his hand. Tony’s eyes are heavy and trying to close, but he struggles to keep them open a little bit longer, because Mom’s right there with him and he doesn’t want to miss it. ‘Thank,’ he says drowsily, and Mom laughs a little bit, a sweet quiet laugh. She leans to tuck him in, the CatBearPuppy cuddled in by his side.

‘Goodnight, my bambino,’ she says softly, and bends down and kisses his forehead. And Tony sighs with happiness and lets his eyes droop closed; and he sleeps, and dreams about birthday cake and flower crowns and biplanes and _friends_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m a little torn. This is definitely not the end of Tony’s story – I have a whole plan involving Peggy and Howard and Tony’s parents becoming a little more aware of the fact that they have an actual, sensitive, baby child who needs, y’know, love and affection – but I kind of feel like it should be its own fic. It will pick up where this one leaves off, just after the birthday, and still mostly be told from Tony’s point of view, but every so often there will be an adult perspective scene where Tony’s not present. Also, the birthday party feels like a good breaking point, and it’s a nice twelve-thousand-ish word count.
> 
> (And the new fic will have Peggy actually, physically punching Howard for being a neglectful jerk. Just so you all know.)
> 
> So, tl;dr: this is the end of this fic, but not the end of Tony’s story. I’ve made this a [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/910485), so if you want to follow this universe, you can subscribe to the series so you get the updates. I’ve also just posted another short, Steve-POV fic in this universe, but set in the future when Steve and Tony are about 10-11 yrs old: [A Day In The Life Of Steve Rogers, Grade 6: Pepper Potts, Asthma Attacks, And Apology Cupcakes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13255362).
> 
> Also, [here is a crappy phone photo of the CatBearPuppy](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/169285740312/tonys-catbearpuppy-ref-for-the-new-chapter-of-do). If you'd like to take a guess as to which species it belongs to, please go ahead. :P
> 
> I also realised I hadn’t replied to lots of the comments on the last chapter. So I’ll be going through those as well, sorry everyone for the long wait. Your wonderful comments made me so happy, thank you!! *hugs everyone*

**Author's Note:**

> Come [follow me on Tumblr](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/) if you want more fluffy Steve/Tony ficlets. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art for] Do Not Steal Steve's Fricken Pencils (Or Poke Tony's Bottom With Your Ruler)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332164) by [kaitovsheiji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitovsheiji/pseuds/kaitovsheiji)




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